


Blinding Lights

by AmelieofK



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Light BDSM, M/M, Smut, Violence, WIP, noir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmelieofK/pseuds/AmelieofK
Summary: Kim Hanbin had lived his whole life getting by with the opportunities provided by the underbelly of Sin City; Las Vegas, City of Lights. Tonight was made special by the fact that he was finally given the opportunity to retrieve a package on behalf of one of the city's most powerful man.
Relationships: Goo Junhoe/Kim Hanbin | B.I
Kudos: 10





	Blinding Lights

**Author's Note:**

> >> Set in Vegas. Absolutely inspired by Blinding Lights Remix by The Weeknd & ROSALIA
> 
> >> 🔞May contain graphic sexual, BDSM & violent physical scenes in later chapters

Hanbin glanced at the rearview mirror of the Cadillac, saw the silhouette of the city’s landscape and the snaking road behind him. He managed to heave a sigh of relief, glancing at the package beside him and realised that either way, he had been fucked big time, both by the one who had commissioned the collection, as well as the one who was supposed to pass the package to him. It told Hanbin many things, all at once.

One, that he was way past his prime in this fucking town.

Second, that he was continually getting fucked over when it came to business.

Third, that he had had enough of the fuckery.

He pressed the glove compartment open, taking out the crumpled pack of cigarettes inside. There was only one stick left. It looked stale, the wrapping paper all crumpled and the edges already crumbling from the tobacco leaves threatening to spill out but it was the one that mattered. He took the stick out, letting the empty box to fall to the floor and pressed the stick between his lips using one hand, keeping the other firm on the wheel as he cruised pass the sign which told him he was going way too fast. He did not even need the sign to tell him this. The wind roaring past him, pulling back his over long, dark hair and causing the folds of his collar to flap around his neck and whip his stubby cheeks were warning enough but he knew to slow down or even stop might also mean certain death. This same hand now grappled with the inner pockets of his suit. His one good suit. Maybe he should have not have worn it for today, but Hanbin always wore a good suit for his deliveries, especially the special ones, the ones that were commissioned for urgency, because these were normally precious cargo and hence, meant a lot of money to be made. He found the lighter where it was, in the inner pocket by his right chest, where an envelope and a phone had been laid as well. 

He first chucked the phone out the window, it flew past him and he heard the faint sound of it cracking upon the tarmac, as he continued speeding down the road and stared at the lighter, which he clutched in his hand. 

He remember buying the lighter when he had started out in the delivery business. A Zippo with a metal body, boasting a crest constructed from silver diamantes shaped into a skull, which wore glittery red spectacle frames. It matched his shades, the one with the yellow lenses which he wore regardless the time of the day. He lighted the cigarette quickly, taking a drag and switched hands so he could dangle the steaming stick over the open window as he drove without missing a beat. He spit out a tobacco leaf which had come loose and settled on the tip of his tongue as he exhaled, before settling the stick precariously at the edge of his lips. With his hand now free, he was able to place his elbow against the window’s silver rim so he could rest his head against it while he continued driving without losing a beat and pondered over the events which had unfolded tonight.

He had made his way to the club at seven. He never conducted business via phones. Phones were veritable networks of records waiting to be discovered. You could be bugged talking about the size of some dealer’s shipment, or which runner was scraping by, stealing someone else’s take and the next thing you know, you would get arrested in a sting or worst, end up on the kerbside with your brains blown out. He had seen these things happen since he worked the streets as a hustler, so when he moved a couple of steps up, he dispensed with cellphones and mobile. Anyone who wanted to deal with him, knew his connections and used them wisely and verily.

It was Friday night so the club was teeming with life, but he made his way around the crowd. He strutted past the bar where the boozers spent hours sitting their butts on the stool until they slid off the seat to wipe the floor, or remained frozen to the spot with bloodshot eyes until the last call for order. He would past the gawkers, staring up the poles, drinks forgotten in hand at the sight of a firm, milky thigh set into fishnet stockings and fuzzy garters. They would be waving tens at the girls. Sometimes, if the girls recognised him while doing their routine, they would wave eagerly and he would blow them a kiss without losing the toothpick in his mouth, although in real life he would probably not even touch them if they sidle up to him with a free drink. Then it was the frenzy of the dance floor. Some drugged-up teen scoured from house parties looking to hook up with rich college kids with fat wallets, or a plastic bag full of tiny, colourful pills. The bathroom would also be crawling with these parasites doing more than taking a leak, probably for a twenty or an upper. Hanbin always had his back to this part of the club as he navigated the floor and reach his destination.

“Malakai.” He greeted the big Scandinavian muscle guarding the entrance to the private room, slipping a twenty into those big hands. The velvet rope was unlatched and he crossed the curtain straight into the VIP room which seem to be a world away from the seediness of the main floor. He had been here countless times for a variety of jobs but tonight was different. Tonight, the stakes were higher. He had a new client and one who was truly important.

Passing the rope and the curtains, were for the privileged few. It was another level of heaven; if heaven was dim, cool and filled with the plumes of cigars and muffled conversations. If the streets were the trading room floors, then the VIP rooms were the corporate offices where every word which glides out from between veneered teeth that would never yellow with age, meant that enough money was being produced to ensure every transaction could be fulfilled, if the price was right. 

Hanbin was looking forward to meeting his new client tonight. Bobby Kim was the type whose reputation preceded him.

Hanbin held no love for any of the men who were in the VIP room tonight. He had cut his teeth with almost all of them and he knew that they were the ones who make or break the world he lived in. They were dangerous men, all of them and Bobby Kim was probably as dangerous as they come. Yet a part of him could not help, but also feel as if he had come into his own to have been called for a job on behalf of one, if not the most powerful of all the men in this heaven away from heaven.

On paper, Bobby Kim was clean. A multi-billionaire who runs successful business ventures, local and overseas, enough to provide him a life that was paved in gold every step of the way. He was so rich that he even had people in place to run these businesses. All he had to do was ensure these businesses ran smoothly with no glitch. In life though, no one would dare to even look at Bobby Kim in the eye. If you are on his payroll, that practically means your ass belongs to him. His connections were wide, all-encompassing and stretched even beyond Sin City, a fact that was not lost on every peddler, hustler or dealer on the street. If Bobby Kim engaged for your services, it meant only two things; you have made it and there was no turning back.

By the time Hanbin strutted to meet his new connection, his toothpick had already disappeared as he passed the curtain, his shades folded, tucked into the linen pocket of his suit, ready to meet the man who ruled over this world. He was not surprised by the two men who had their hands firmly dipped into their suits at the sight of him. Hanbin put his hands up and declared,

“Here to see Mister Kim. I’m Hanbin.” They searched him thoroughly before pushing him into another secluded and veiled area; the ultimate level of heaven. There were more men inside, all packing lead, but they only nodded for Hanbin to follow the blue spotlights, which saw him walking up to a C-shaped loungewhere Bobby Kim sat, with his legs crossed watching the dancers on the pole into the middle of the floor where the lounge had been placed. “Mister…” Hanbin began, but all he saw was a palm stopping him from talking any further. The fingers on that palm were all ringed; thick, ornate gold with real gems which gleamed in the semi-darkness. His narrowed eyes were fixed at the dancers on the pole. Two young males, probably at the cusp of adulthood, both already halfway to being naked were gyrating to the music being played in the background and judging by the raging boners both were sporting, they were about ready to explode.

“Kiss and stroke each other until you come.” Bobby Kim commanded. He did not even need to raise his voice, that hoarse, raspy voice even when whispered, demanded full attention. Hanbin inhaled a sharp breath, diverting his eyes away from the sight. The young men looked slightly malnourished and both were wearing leather collars, their wrists displaying traces of red welts, presumably from the probability of long-term capture. There were worst things than drugs, gambling or stealing. _Worst things_. And Hanbin had lived long enough to wish it was not from his own personal experience. “You don’t really like pleasures of the flesh do you, Mister Kim?” His new employer inquired. There was no curiosity in his voice, just demands which required swift answers.

“Oh I do. Just a little different, perhaps.” Hanbin laughed nervously, glancing at the man, whose face was still hidden in the shadows; all Hanbin knew of him were the fingers bedecked with rings and those sharp, narrowed eyes. “Please just call me Hanbin, Mister Kim.” He added respectfully, bowing slightly, wishing the man would just go ahead and tell him what to do. The two young men were really going at it now, but their blank stares and faces devoid of emotion, were even more disturbing to look at, than the activity they were currently being compelled to do. One of them began to pant harshly.

“Don’t you dare shout. Not a sound as both of you came. Yes, like that, against each other.” Bobby Kim was saying now as the two began to expend their release onto each other, their muffled gaspsfilling the air urgently. “I understand, Hanbin, that you have been known to collect and deliver packages for the Song brothers?”

The Song brothers could have passed off for twins the first time you met them, but Yunhyeong who was older by two years, was chatty and amicable, unlike his younger brother, Chanwoo, who was broody and kept to himself. The brothers ran a slew of casinos along Sunset Strip and a couple of underground businesses which the authorities had never heard of. Hanbin knew, because he had delivered some of their money from the illegal dens to the casinos to be laundered. He even ran some of the dens for them, when they were short of men after an unprecedented raid which had set them back, years ago when he was still new to the scene. They were probably the rare few in the industry whose words still held honour in them.

“That I have, sir.” He nodded. The man stood up and walked towards the pole. He was tall, lean, probably only a few years older than Hanbin himself, but there was something in his gait which commanded one’s utmost attention. His hair was dark as midnight, unruly but pushed back, making it look more like the mane of an untamed lion. He had his back to Hanbin and his blouse, which he had left unbuttoned to begin with, slid down from tanned shoulders, revealing a muscular back fully taken up by a tattoo of a red dragon in full ascension. Its body had been inked a fiery, passionate red with the scales tinted in crescents of gold, making it look almost real in the dark and alive even as he flexed his body at the two men kneeling before him in subjugation. 

“You may begin.” He instructed the two younger men, who had been waiting for further instructions from im. They began servicing him and in a manner Hanbin wished he had not been there to witness. “I have a package I will need you to collect…from a man in Club Capua immediately after. This package is important. Harder, you bitches!” He barked.

“Club Capua?” Hanbin muttered. The criminal world was not without rivalry. If this club which belongs to the likes of Bobby Kim and his men, is heaven then Club Capua is its opposing hell. Owned by rival underworld boss Kim Donghyuk, it was in the seedy part of Vegas, a darkness even the authorities would not dare sent their bravest.

“Yes, Club Capua. Would you have any problems with that?” Bobby Kim had turned his head back, his gaze resting preternaturally on Hanbin’s face, almost daring him to refuse.

“No sir. I have no problems obtaining the package on your behalf. It must be one of extreme value.” Hanbin stated.

“As a matter of fact, it is. One I have had my eye on for the longest time and now it is finally mine. Get that package from Mister DK of Club Capua…that’s right bitch, you suck and swallow all that, in one go.” Bobby Kim was commanding his slaves. Hanbin could clearly see his shoulders demarcated with veins as he expelled his release onto the two men, who were still waiting on him, their weary faces only served to heighten the despair which had began to rise felt in his heart since he first saw them. “I will pay you double your usual price, as long as the package is delivered to me right after. It is imperative that it reaches me in…pristine condition.” He was extolling now, zipping his pants and turning to face Hanbin. Under the dim spotlight, the man looked extremely intimidating. As if he could rule the world with just his presence alone and woe to any man who dared to cross his path.

“Of course, sir.” Hanbin nodded, hoping it would look more like a bow.

“What kind of pleasures do you pursue, Hanbin?” Bobby Kim had turned away from him, strutting back to the dark recesses of the lounge as another one of his half naked slaves, bound in chains and leathers entered, carrying a tray bearing a bottle of whisky and a shot glass. Hanbin was not sure why exactly Bobby Kim was delaying his task to ask such a personal question. Plus, it was getting really uncomfortable being here watching dead faces serve the mighty Bobby Kim. 

“I’m sorry, sir. I…do not follow.” Hanbin replied with uncertainty, glancing back at the entrance nervously. Everything about Bobby Kim screams wrong and he began questioning why he had been chosen for the job in the first place.

“They told me you are a man of many talents, yet you remain elusive by nature.” Bobby Kim had returned to his seat, watching the slave pour the whisky and was now regarding Hanbin from behind the shadows. “You are not easy to contact and I’ve also been informed that you choose the jobs that you want to do.” He intoned, his throaty voice even softer, which made it all sound even more dangerous.

“I guess every man has his own predilections and preferences, sir.” Hanbin extolled, nodding subtly at the half naked young man standing still, holding the serving tray by Bobby Kim's side. Something passed over Bobby Kim’s face. Hanbin could not really discern if he had offended the man. For some reason, he felt extremely courageous. It was his first job for Bobby Kim, but he felt the need to assert himself.

“You may go now. Please retrieve the package without any trouble and ensure it reaches me within the next two hours. Any less and there would be consequences.” Bobby Kim warned him. Ah, there it was, the man who thinks he owns the world and by virtue of that, Hanbin. Hanbin sighed inwardly. Maybe, he should not have accepted the job, but that was how their world works. Everyone had a price. And this time it was double.

“Of course, s…” Hanbin began.

“Master.” Bobby Kim cut him off, his voice had taken on a register, which made it sound even more lower and infinitely dangerous, as he gestured for the slave to sit on his lap.

“Sorry?” Hanbin muttered, realising perhaps, that he had bitten off more than he could chew.

“Master.” Bobby Kim repeated, “You may call me Master. My man will give you further instructions.” With that, he waved a hand signalling Hanbin’s dismissal.

They paid him cash. Half to grease the wheels and the other half upon completion of the job. The money was given to him immediately by a petite man wearing a pinstriped suit, who had introduced himself as Bobby Kim’s secretary, Jinhwan. He had fine, glossy hair dyed a beautiful peach colour, his fringe bounced with every step he took.

“Mister DK will be expecting you, of course.” Jinhwan had intoned as he led Hanbin to the back entrance where it was more private and led straight to the parking lot where Hanbin had parked his Cadillac. “You can actually use this entrance when delivering the package to avoid the crowd.” He added. “I understand that you don’t use a cellphone?” Jinhwan now as he nodded to the muscle guarding the area to open the back door.

“No, I do not like to leave a trail when doing business.” Hanbin admitted, wondering why a person with such delicate, angelic features ended up being the personal aide of the devil incarnate himself.

“Well, the Master insists on being notified once you received the package so you may use this.” Jinhwan handed a phone to him. It was grey, fit perfectly in his palm and looked more like a walkie-talkie. “The line is untraceable and you may dispose of it as you wish, once tonight’s transaction comes to a successful end.” The shorter man further explained. _The Master_ , Hanbin pondered, not caring for the taste of the word in his mind. The man truly had _cajones_ , Hanbin thought contemptuously, for even getting his employees to address him so…intimately.

“May I know the contents of the package?” Hanbin had asked. If anything, the question was belated. Perhaps, if he had known from the beginning the nature of this particular delivery, he could have refused or not even forward a reply. Jinhwan only flashed a disarming smile. Hanbin thought it complemented the heart-shaped mole on his cheek perfectly. 

“Ah-Mister Kim, surely you, of all people, could appreciate the private nature of the Master’s business, even if this is your first time conducting it with him.” The secretary was saying, gesturing with his palm to the open door to indicate that any further discussion will no longer be entertained. Hanbin nodded, taking out his shades, as he replaced both the envelope and the phone in its stead.

He walked out into the empty parking lot and turned only to find the door already closed, behind him. He heaved a sigh, wondering if he has enough time to stop by the Song's to specifically ask Yunhyeong what he had said to Bobby Kim which had somehow convinced the man that Hanbin was the man for the job. Hanbin unlocked the Cadillac's door and sat within the driver's seat in silent contemplation; one hand tapping the steering wheel and the other rapping on the leather seats still glossy with the shine of something new. 

"Club Capua." Hanbin considered all viable options; alleyways and shortcuts he could take to reach there faster and without too many complications. Anyone coming from the South was always treated with suspicions, but Hanbin had the privilege of being known in both parts of the town, which perhaps alluded to the reason why he had been the perfect choice, after all. 

Hanbin had decided to quit smoking a month before this fated night. 

It was something he did not think much about. He suddenly hated the smell of tobacco and had decided he was better off without a cigarette in is his hand or his mouth. He had started the habit of placing a toothpick in his mouth instead. He revved the Cadillac. Bottle-green, that was the name of the colour the seedy salesman had called this particular shade. The engine purred and it began thrumming like a beast come to life. He had gazed into the rearview mirror, could see the Vegas landscape of neon pinks and blues; the night lights, hear the faded pings of slot machines, sense the red velvet curtains decking hardwood stages, redolent of cabaret revues and pole dances. This was his turf as much as the _capos_ ' central he had emerged from. None of these places could have run as smoothly as the engines of his Cadillac if people like him had not existed. He is the _real_ master.

Of course, hours later, he had forgotten all about how he had started the night, wanting to prove that he was a man of worth. Someone, who people like Bobby Kim relied upon to do their dirty work, and cannot live without. He knew that somewhere buried in him was that same guy, the hustler who started out on the streets and slowly climbed to the loftier position of being the go-to guy for all the bosses within the hood. He even managed to put a downpayment on an apartment in Victoria Lane, which was less seedy than the wormhole he had crawled out of. It was tiny space but it was still his; slightly out of Vegas but close enough to feel its heartbeat. 

Forgotten. The truth was he was one of the forgotten ones, the ones who had to claw their way to a life which resembled something more than just becoming the plaything of someone like Bobby Kim. He narrowly escaped such a fate and it embittered him to realise that things had somehow come full circle for him tonight, of all nights, when he was supposed to prove to himself that he was beyond the clutches of such depravities. 

He glanced to the side where the package sat on the passenger seat, cowering and shaking in fear. The eyes that blinked in his direction seemed haunted and filled with shadows of a past which seem terminal. He had seen into those eyes once, a long time ago when he stared into the mirror. 

A package.

_A fucking human package_. 

Why the fuck would Yunhyeong have recommended him for such a job, anyway? The Song brothers knew he drew a line at delivering humans. Anything but that, because that was where he had come from; the hell from which he had made his escape. There was more animal than human in that preternatural, cowering gaze beside him. More agony than a lifetime could corral and impose upon. There was also something else Hanbin recognise in that gaze; a resignation, the gradually bleak acceptance of misfortune, devoid of hope or any forms of it. 

Hanbin took a drag of his last stale cigarette, releasing it from between his fingers, letting it fly to the winds, wondering how he was going to extricate himself from this complicated situation he had found himself in. He exhaled the smoke, pressing hard on the gas pedal, pushing his Cadillac to speeds he had not dared attempted before, letting his thoughts drown in the night. 


End file.
